Demons, Part 3
by Princepen
Summary: Part 3 of a continuing story which is my version of a re-do of the first mission of TNG. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Hopefully you will enjoy it.
1. Chapter 1

**Demons, Part 3**

**All prior disclaimers issued by me for whatever they are worth, apply to this story.**

Vulcan 2327

He is not like us," her father said darkly. The young girl hid out of sight in the shadows of the doorway as her parents talked softly and seriously.  
"He is still our son," insisted her mother defiantly.  
"Yes, but for how long? He is evolving, changing into something else we cannot control."  
"Do you believe he is a danger to T'pel?" At the mention of her name, the girl shrank back even further hoping she would go unnoticed. Her parents did not tolerate deception. But she needed to learn the fate of her brother, to whom she was devoted.

"He is meant for another life," said her father. "T'Pel will go to Starfleet; that is her destiny. She must not be distracted from her goals by her brother's...flaws."

"He is not flawed," said her mother. "He is very special."

T'Pel's father looked at her mother with more vulnerability than she would ever see again. "Your emotional connection to him will be our downfall," her father said almost in warning. "If we keep him with us here, there will soon be a price to pay."

"We are his family. We should be willing to pay the price," said her mother. Her parents regarded one another for a few moments longer, and then her father exited the room. A great silence fell over the house and remained for some time afterwards.

* * *

T'Pel sat in her guest room on the Enterprise, attempting to meditate. Instead her mind was full of doubt and intruding images from her past. She did not feel guilt for keeping her connection to Ra'Val from Picard, although she recognized from her knowledge of his personality that he would remain angry with her for some time. She could not let the emotional spirit of a human she once loved to distract her from what she knew she needed to do, now that her brother still lived.

While she remained focused, she did feel somewhat unsettled. Unsettled by the probability that her brother was on board the Enterprise, and that this meant he would need to be confronted when found. She knew that this was her burden; to find her brother and bring him to justice. What form this justice took had yet to be discovered. She switched on her communications console, patching herself in to the Vulcan High Council. There was a flicker and then the image of an extremely severe looking Vulcan male appeared on the screen. They regarded each other for a few moments until the official finally spoke.

"Greetings, T'Pel. We have been awaiting your report. Has your…brother been located?" To non-Vulcan ears, his tone would have been innocuous, but to T'Pel she knew she was being accused, although of what she could not be certain.

"Delegate Stahl," said T'Pel with polite acknowledgement. "Ra'Val has not yet been found. I am…quite sure, however, that he still lives. I am prepared to bring the children back to Vulcan. It will not be simple. The Andorians have labeled these children as criminals."

Stahl nodded very slightly. "We must learn your intentions, T'Pel. Have you eliminated all emotional connections to your sibling? It is important for the people of Vulcan to know that you have our best interests in mind."

"Of course," she said. "However, my mission is to bring the children back to Vulcan. Have the goals of this mission changed?"

"If Ra'Val is alive he must be brought to justice," said Stahl cryptically.

"Meaning?"

Stahl's expression was cold. "Your brother has caused great suffering, T'Pel. Apart from the suffering he has caused the Andorians, he has also brought dishonor to his own people. His reappearance on Vulcan, even to stand trial would be most…disruptive."

T'Pel tilted her head as though she were not sure of what she was hearing. "Delegate Stahl, are you suggesting that I kill my own brother?"

Stahl's eyes glinted. "I am suggesting that you follow logic, and not emotion. You were chosen for this mission because you have proven your mastery of logic through Kolinahr. Some objected to your appointment because of your blood connection to Ra'Val. Perhaps you must ask yourself now if it is logical for your brother, who has caused so much destruction, to continue to live. Please keep the Council informed of your progress. Stahl out."

* * *

"If he's on this ship, T'pel has put us all at risk," said Picard in a distant tone. He stood, back straight and tense, staring into the corner of Crusher's cramped office. He was contemplating now whether he should leave the ship now to meet with the Andorian Commander Zatha, or wait until he was certain Ra'Val was not on board or had been captured. Crusher stood behind him, wondering whether to try and reason with him or just ask him to leave her office so she could get some work done. Because he seemed on the verge of making a decision, she decided on the former.

"She was just doing what she thought was right, Jean-Luc," suggested Crusher. "You can't fault her for that."

"Yes, I damn well _can_!" he shouted, and turned to regard her with an intensity she had rarely seen him display. Crusher flinched involuntarily and crossed her arms over her chest. She was reminded in moments like these how different he was from Jack, and how little she really knew him. Jean-Luc was a person with great passion for knowledge, for justice and for exploration, and yet most of the time he was extremely controlled. With Jack, at least during the first years they were together, she always knew where she stood. Jack was almost incapable of keeping a secret, which was one of the reasons she loved him, and in part why things became so strained between them during the last few years of his life. Picard on the other hand had often been a mystery even to Jack and Walker, but at the time his distant personality was more of a convenience to her than a hindrance. After all, if he remained remote he was unlikely to intrude on Jack and Beverly's relationship.

But now, she viewed him and her relationship to him differently. A relationship with him now was simply unavoidable; she had to work with him every day. But now she knew she wanted more than just a working relationship with him. She wanted to get to know him. The problem was, he might not let her.

His expression softened somewhat when he saw the startled reaction on Crusher's face. She could tell he was embarrassed and regretted his outburst. "I apologize for my tone, Doctor. I have no right to take my frustrations out on you."

She moved closer to him, reminding herself that it wasn't her he was angry with. "Jean-Luc," she said. "You can be open with me. If we're to be friends…well we should be able to share our feelings. Isn't that what friends do?" She looked at him searchingly. He returned her gaze allowing a hint of his emotion to show. She could see that he was disappointed and confused. She was now coming to understand that he detested betrayal. And he clearly felt that T'Pel had betrayed his trust. "Tell me what is bothering you," she offered. She wanted to reach out to him, to offer him comfort, but something held her back.

He sighed and looked away and took a step back, breaking their intimacy. Crusher saw that he was too intent on the problems of the moment to connect with her. Which, of course she being a practical person, understood.

"What is bothering me is that I cannot be in two places at once. You're correct, Doctor, it does no good to be angry about this. I need to focus on the solution. And that means I need to leave for the Andorian ship at once."

Seeing that he had made up his mind, Crusher moved away and sat down behind her desk. "Captain, Starfleet Command may not believe in you yet, but I do."

Surprisingly, he blushed. "Thank you," he said with a small appreciative smile, before turning and exiting sick bay.

* * *

Picard stood on the transporter pad with the young still-unnamed Andorian female. She stood staring straight ahead angrily as though she were facing an invisible adversary. Lt. Yar had argued that the Andorian girl be put in restraints for the transport in case she became violent again, but Picard had forbidden it. The appearance of a lone teenage Andorian survivor in handcuffs might be enough to send the Andorians over the edge, and he was unwilling to take that risk.

"Keep things under control while I'm gone, Number One and I want to know the minute Ra'Val is found-if he is here."  
"Aye sir, understood," said Riker. "And good luck sir," he added. He watched as the two figures shimmered and then beamed away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Demons, Part 3, Chapter 2**

Picard and the Andorian girl materialized in what appeared to be a conference room. The temperature in the room was surprisingly low, and Picard immediately felt goose bumps form on his skin. Commander Zatha was waiting alone for them. She was tall and imposing in person, and the way she held herself reminded him that he had always been drawn to tall women. He also noticed that she was armed with a sidearm at her hip and a menacing looking curved knife was strapped to the outside of her thigh.

She strode forward, her antennae alertly pointed at him. She regarded his still healing bruised face with open curiosity and a touch of amusement. Her voice was clear and cool. "Captain Picard, I must confess I did not expect you to be so…battered." Picard resisted the self-conscious gesture of touching his face.

"Yes, well, such is the life of a starship captain," said Picard wryly. "Surely you can relate, Commander Zatha," he added.

"Not really, Picard. I prefer to let my subordinates take the brunt of the physical damage." He could tell by her smooth, almost aristocratic countenance that she was likely speaking the truth.

"Perhaps the Vulcan children you are harboring are not as innocent as you maintain, Captain," she continued, still making light of his bruised face. "Or," she said with a sly smile, "Perhaps this young one is responsible for the sad condition of your face."

Zatha fixed the young Andorian woman with a look of appreciation, and then beckoned the girl to her side. Showing her first signs of compliance, the girl immediately went to stand next to the Andorian commander. She stood silently and obediently by the commander's side. Zatha placed a steady hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Unfortunately, Commander, you are right on both counts," Picard said thinly. "In fact this young woman is quite a fighter. Now, might we get down to business?"

Zatha nodded to one of her lieutenants. "Take this young one away, clean her up and give her something to eat. Help her to understand that she is safe with her people now."

The guard gently took the girl by the hand, and they walked out of the chamber. Picard was suddenly struck by the kindness these Andorians were showing one another. It was in stark contrast to the way they treated outsiders. He had grown up believing the Andorians to be a very fierce race, and that they were; but more often than not, his experiences with non-humans continued to teach him that stereotypes were only one part of the story.

Zatha gestured for Picard to sit down and he did. She poured a glass of something cool and tinted blue, and set it down in front of him. Still watching him, she poured herself a glass from the same pitcher and then sat down across from him at the long stone table. Andorians did not toast, he knew, but he did know something of their customs, having served with an Andorian on the Stargazer. In a symbolic gesture of trust, Picard raised the glass and took a sip before she did.

She spoke first. "I am glad you were sent to carry out this mission, Picard. You are not unknown to our people. We respect you. But…the Vulcan children must pay for their crimes. And you must deliver them to us, so that we may carry out our justice." She delicately raised her glass to her lips and then drained it in one swallow.

"You mean put them to death," said Picard. Observing Andorian decorum he drained his own glass and instantly became light-headed.

Zatha shrugged and smiled, pouring Picard another glass of what he now knew was Andorian ale. "What is it you humans say? An eye for an eye…."

Picard shook his head. "Your knowledge of human sayings is impressive, however it is misplaced in this context, Commander. You and I both know that those children are not at fault for what happened to those colonists."

"Who is at fault then?" She studied his face with quiet concentration. It seemed to him that she already knew the answer to her own question, but was judging his trustworthiness.

"A Vulcan named Ra'Val," said Picard. "The Andorian girl we found on the moon colony confirmed that it was Ra'Val."

"And where is this Vulcan, Ra'Val?"

Picard hesitated only slightly. "We do not know if he is alive or dead."

"So you did not find his body?"

Picard kept his face neutral. "No," he said simply. He sipped at his glass of ale, and then steeling himself, drank the rest. He felt a harsh warmth rush thorough his neck and chest. "Did you?" He knew his attempt to appear unsuspecting was not going to be well-received.

"Captain, if we already had a body of a known murderer in our custody, why would we be chasing school children?"

"So you admit you know that Ra'Val was responsible for the deaths of your people," said Picard softly.

Commander Zatha's smile was as chilly as the air in the room. "I will admit to nothing, Captain. The fact is that I have been given a duty: to bring the killers of my people to justice. The time has come for me to carry out my duty."

"I think it is time that the Andorian government shifts the focus off of these young people—"

"Captain, unless you have _evidence_ to prove the innocence of these children—"  
"Commander, where is your evidence to prove they _are not_ innocent?" Picard snapped back.

"The fleet is mobilizing Captain." said Zatha, resignedly. "Despite my orders to capture them, my government is not focused on these children. It is instead focused on war with the Vulcans. You should see by now that my role in this conflict is very small, as is yours. Perhaps we should both carry out our limited duties as best we can."

"Commander…my duty is not just to protect these children but to prevent war if I can." Zatha fixed him with a stare that indicated she suspected he might be insane.

"I will…convey your information about Ra'Val to the Andorian High Command, Captain," agreed Zatha. "But I cannot guarantee their cooperation. In fact, the situation could change for the worse, and very quickly."

"I understand," said Picard. "We are both in a difficult position."

"Perhaps if you were to give some assurance that the Vulcan murderer would be captured and delivered to us, Captain...the politicians may be willing to shift their focus to him and let the children be."

"I wish that I could make that promise," said Picard. "But as I told you, I haven't enough information to know whether Ra'Val is alive or—"

An electronic screech interrupted the conference. Zatha pressed her palm into an indentation on the table. "Speak," she ordered the officer on the other end.

"Incoming message from High Command," said a reedy voice on the other end.

Commander Zatha looked at Picard with a curious expression as though she were contemplating something very interesting. Then she said, "Patch it in here, Hakka."

There was a pause. "Commander, are you alone?" asked Hakka, with some suspicion.

"I _said_ patch it in, Hakka. I will deal with your insolence later," snapped Commander Zatha. Almost immediately a foot tall hologram of a high ranking Andorian officer materialized above the table. The hologram was facing away from Picard, and apparently was unaware of his presence; something that Zatha had apparently anticipated. Zatha stood at attention. "General Thran, I am at your service," she said with a curt bow.

"Yes, you are," said the General. "And you are now ordered to take your ship to the Alpha Quadrant to join the rest of the armada."

* * *

"Does this mean that you no longer wish me to capture the renegade children, sir?" Zatha's sarcasm was barely under the surface of her seemingly concerned tone. Picard kept his amused reaction under cover.

"Justice comes in many forms, Commander," said the General. "The High Command has now chosen to challenge the arrogance of the Vulcan people. Their failure to respond to our demands will be their undoing."

"Are we now at war, sir?" asked Zatha.

The General smiled. "You are under orders," he said simply. "Should the Enterprise fall into pursuit, we will consider re-visiting the issue of these children later."

"And what of the Enterprise, sir? I have met with the Starfleet Captain, and he insists that the children are innocent—"

"Does he agree to hand them over to you?"

"No sir, he continues to refuse," replied Zatha. Picard clasped the arms of the chair tensely.

The General paused. "Is he still aboard your ship?"

Zatha's eyes briefly flicked to Picard. What on earth was she doing, he wondered? "Yes," she replied. Picard's pulse began to race.

"Take him into custody," said the General. "You are correct that we are at war, Commander. Captain Picard is a prisoner of war. Without its Captain, the Enterprise will be injured, and we can use Picard as a bargaining chip later on in exchange for the children."

"But we are not at war with Starfleet, sir," Zatha reminded her commanding officer.  
"Do as you are told immediately, or you will be relieved of command. General Thran out." The hologram blinked out of sight.

* * *

Picard leapt to his feet. "What the hell?"

Commander Zatha hit the comlink again. "Lieutenant Hakka, set course for the Alpha Quadrant, full impulse power."

"Commander, at that speed it will take us too long—"  
"You heard me, Lieutenant!"

She switched off the link and turned to Picard, who stood facing her, fists clenched. She wondered if he would fight, rather than be taken prisoner. At that moment she decided that despite its bruises, it was a good face.

Picard hit his communicator. "Picard to Enterprise."

"Captain you know you are out of communications and transporter range at this point. My ship is already on its way to rendezvous with the fleet."

Picard shook his head. "You've no authority to keep me prisoner here! You're not at war with Starfleet, you said so, yourself."

"Picard," she laughed. "You and I agree on many things. Perhaps under better circumstances…but these are not those circumstances." She walked over to him and looked him in his eye. Her antennae were now pointing toward the back of her head. "Sometimes prisoners escape, Picard. The main shuttle bay is down two levels from here. You'll have approximately five minutes before I order my ship into warp. Now hit me," she ordered.

He was so angry, that he barely hesitated to haul off and belt her with his fist, but instantly regretted it. Clearly she was an honorable person, acting within the confines of a very rigid system. He knew that if she was discovered to have aided his escape, she could be executed. Clearly she had her reasons for why she had both alerted the General to his presence, and let him go. Perhaps she had believed that setting him up as a prisoner of war, a prisoner she knew the Andorians had no authority to keep, and then letting him escape, would backfire not on her, but on General Thran. He shook his stinging hand limply, as he watched a dark bluish welt begin to form on her beautiful cheek.

"Good one," Zatha said, straightening up from the blow. "But you can do better than that," she taunted him.

Picard made a face. "It'll have to do." She shrugged and tossed him her weapon.

"Just don't kill any of my people on your way down, Picard," she warned him as he ran out of the conference room with one last quick look back.

* * *

Will Riker was not the most patient man. He was as quick to anger as he was to laugh, and his moods could change for the better or worse in a matter or moments. He knew that as he was maturing, he was gaining more patience, but at times it was all he could do not to throttle his subordinates.

Above all he expected attention to duty from them, just as the Captain did. It annoyed him that because Captain Picard was such a stickler for adherence to duty that once he was off the bridge, the crew seemed just slightly off their game, just enough to make Riker doubt they were taking him seriously. LaForge seemed to stare off into space, literally, instead of checking his coordinates, although it was difficult to catch him doing this with his visor. Data tended to go off on even more tangents when Picard was away, as though he believed Riker was actually interested in subjects such as the mating habits of the slugs native to Andoria. Somewhat thankfully, Data had left the bridge some time ago to assist Yar with her search for Ra'Val.

And right now, his patience was being tested in other ways. Captain Picard had been gone three hours on board the Andorian cruiser and hadn't checked in yet. Meanwhile Chief of Security Yar had turned the corridors of the ship into a de-militarized zone looking for a mysterious and apparently invisible Vulcan cult leader. Filling in at her post stood Lt. Worf, who seemed to have even less patience than Riker.

Riker looked up as the turbo lift door swished open and in walked Counselor Troi. Crusher had cleared her for duty when it appeared that she was recovering from her head wound quicker than expected. He was glad to see her generally, and especially glad to see that she was feeling better. Things between them had never officially ended as far as he was concerned, but Troi might have seen it differently. She had expected more from him at the time than he could provide her. He had just been promoted to Lt. Commander aboard the Potemkin, when she was on Betazed, and things between them became more difficult logistically. Now that they were back aboard the Enterprise, those professional barriers seemed like they should no longer matter, yet somehow they did. All of his old feelings for her flooded back each time he saw her, and he knew there was no way she wasn't aware of it. But, he feared, she no longer felt the same about him.

He nodded at her as she walked down the ramp, and sat down elegantly in her chair. "Counselor," he said, and returned his eyes to the arm of the command chair. Yar's hourly report was streaming in right then. He frowned as he read it and then looked up at Troi with a scowl. "Twenty decks have been searched with no sign of Ra'Val. That's nearly half the ship," he snapped in frustration. His expression brightened as he looked at her. "Can you sense anything, Deanna?" he asked hopefully.

Troi knew she had to become accustomed to people asking her if she could "feel anything" if she were to find a place on board this ship. Even Will who had known Deanna more intimately than anyone except her mother, expected her to use her telepathic skills as frequently as possible. Didn't he remember how difficult it was for her to open hers senses to so many beings at once? Control of her empathic abilities took more discipline than could ever be taught through Starfleet training. At least Will had some understanding of how these things worked, as opposed to Captain Picard, who apparently believed that she could turn her powers on and off like an old fashioned faucet. It was also arguable whether Picard considered her more valuable than an old kitchen sink at this point.

Picard had no idea how she could be of real benefit to the crew, and she knew he was struggling with her presence still; just as he was struggling with the presence of children, civilians, T'Pel, and Beverly Crusher and her son. For such an apparently solid persona, she was learning he experienced nearly constant inner turmoil. A lesser person might have just ceased functioning after some of the heartache he had experienced, but instead he pressed on as though nothing of emotional importance had ever happened to him. She told herself to be patient with him and the trust would come.

Despite her slight annoyance and fatigue from her concussion recovery, she smiled at Riker. "For the last two hours I have been sitting in my quarters doing my own sweep of the ship. A mental sweep, you could say," she added. "It may sound strange to you, Commander, but I do sense a different kind of presence. Different than my own, and different than T'Pel's. The best way I can describe it is that it is…somehow masked."

"And you think this presence could be Ra'Val?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He smiled tightly. "I know it must be difficult, Counselor, but please continue to sweep periodically if you are able to. If you think T'Pel will help you, by all means, please work with her."  
"She is a very powerful telepath," agreed Deanna. "And far more powerful than me. But I sense she is also experiencing barriers to discovering whether Ra'Val is here with us."

"Well he is her brother," said Riker. "I can't believe the Captain is too happy that she—"

"Commander!" shouted Worf suddenly. Riker jerked around in his chair. "The Andorian ship is departing."

The young man filling in at ops turned halfway in his seat. "They are traveling at full impulse power sir."

"Dammit, people, I need to know these kinds of things when their engines are powering up, not when they're leaving us in the dust," snapped Riker.

"Should I fire on the ship, sir," grumbled Worf. "We are still within phaser range for another 30 seconds."

"No!" exclaimed, Riker, hopping up out of the chair. "We're not firing on any ship Captain Picard is on. Pursue them at three quarters impulse just enough to overtake them. What is the Andorian ship's maximum warp capacity?"

"Warp eight, Commander," piped up LaForge. "We'll have no problems running them down if they enter light speed, sir."

"Let me know when we get within transporter range," said Riker. "We'll get him out of there," he said in a voice quiet but determined.


	3. Chapter 3

**Demons, Part 3, Chapter 3**

T'Pel sat in the guest quarters which housed the Vulcan Redeemer children. The children were scattered around the room. Most sat in stony silence waiting for T'Pel to leave them alone.

T'Pel crouched down next to T'Kal, who had become the de facto leader of the Redeemer children after Ja'Nel had fallen into a coma. "T'Kal, tell me, are you not concerned for your friend?" Her question was probing, but her tone was gentle.  
The young Vulcan girl looked at her somewhat defiantly, but after a moment she nodded.  
"I believe that Ja'Nel will recover," added T'pel. "His mind is damaged, but not broken." The girl seemed to search TPel' face for some bit of truth and then she nodded again slowly.  
The girl looked down at her hands. While she was looking away, T'Pel's eyes flitted around the room to the other children until they rested on the smallest boy, Thar, the mechanic. Although he was smaller than the others, his eyes bore a confidence the others lacked. She had already attempted to question him once before and he had stubbornly refused to say anything of substance. As she caught his eye, she noted, and not for the first time, a familiar look in his eyes. Instead of looking away shyly, he continued to stare, seeming to dare her to question him.

Without taking her eyes off Thar, she posed another question to the girl, T'Kal. "Ja'Nel is your brother, is he not? Blood bonds are not easily broken," she added. Thar's eyes narrowed, and then instantly his grey pupils were replaced by a blackness she had seen only once before. It was a though his eyes now represented a mask of sorts, attempting to hide the little boy's soul.

* * *

About a minute after Picard left Commander Zatha in the conference room, her subordinates must have found her, judging by the blaring alarms now sounding through the ship. He raced through the ship, heart beating wildly, slowing only a few times to duck around a corner when he saw an Andorian crewmember. "I am getting much too old for this," he thought in irritation more than once as he climbed down utility ladders and crawled through maintenance tubes in order to avoid detection and to get to the shuttle bay. Luckily for him most of the Andorian crew was busy preparing for the trip to Vulcan, although security was clearly on alert. Despite the size of the cruiser, the crew was smaller than that of the Enterprise, but from what he had seen so far, they were highly aggressive.

Picard had figured out the settings on the gun Zatha had given him; there appeared to be only two: stun and kill. He had no intention of killing anyone, but if he needed to, he would stun anyone to in order to get off the ship. The problem was how to escape the ship. Zatha had been clever enough to help him stage an escape, but the rest was apparently up to him. As he neared the shuttle bay, he heard shouts. Spinning around, he spotted two tall, wiry Andorians rushing for him from the other end of the hallway, weapons drawn. Instinctively, he ran like hell.

The Andorians stayed on his trail, but he soon found the shuttle bay Zatha had mentioned, and slid inside. The bay appeared to be empty of crew members, and his spirits soared for a moment when his eyes rested on a swift looking little shuttle. He was yanked back to the gritty reality of the moment, when he heard two sets of feet halt outside the door and then he heard Andorian being spoken in hushed tones. He knew they would try and capture him. It was unlikely that Zatha had given them permission to harm him, but he could not be sure. Her motives were still a mystery to him.

He double-checked the stun setting on the weapon and pressed himself into the wall adjacent to the doorway, trying to calm his breathing, which sounded harsh to his own ears. The next moments were a blur. The Andorians came in one at a time, the larger man stepping in first. Without hesitation, Picard fired the weapon in the air just above the Andorian's head, and as he had hoped, the shock of the blast stunned the man's antennae, throwing off his balance, and sending him spinning to the ground. The man writhed in obvious pain and shock, but the Captain had little time to feel any remorse. He ducked as the second Andorian entered the room swiftly, swinging a very sharp, very large knife at Picard's chest. Later on he would reflect that perhaps they had not been so concerned about harming him after all. Picard back peddled, just avoiding being sliced, but he felt a jarring in his forearm as the knife connected with the gun, and yanked it violently from his grip.

Forgetting about the gun and not daring to take his eyes off the swinging blade, Picard stepped to the side, just as the Andorian lunged in, and slammed his fist down on the Andorian's head, yanking one of his antennae down and away from his head. The Andorian screamed and followed in the direction of his sensitive antennae, which was being yanked toward the floor. The Andorian flailed his arms as he fell, and as he was still holding the knife, sliced through Picard's right pant leg on his way down. Picard stumbled, picked up the sidearm, and stunned both Andorians as they lay sprawled on the floor. He knew that the knife had just grazed him; since the wound started on his upper inner thigh and worked its way down, he thought better of checking it at that moment, and instead ran for the nearest shuttle.

He ran his hands over the outside of the shuttle door, looking for a handle, a palm print, anything, to get it to open. Finding a small but uniform indentation on the right hand side of the hatch, a thought occurred to him. Examining Zatha's weapon, he saw that a small key-like protrusion on the butt of the weapon appeared to be a good match for the indent on the shuttle door. He plugged it in, and was delighted to hear a hiss of air, and the shuttle door lifted up. He leapt in, and shut the door behind him, clambering into the pilot's seat. He ran his hands uncertainly over the controls until he found the thrusters and then fired them up. The shuttle suddenly shuddered and he realized with newfound concern that he was being fired upon. Turning the view screen on to target aft, he saw that a new Andorian soldier had entered the shuttle bay and had hoisted some kind of rocket launcher on his shoulder. A green energy beam issued from the oversized weapon and struck the shuttle. "I've got to get the hell out of here before I'm blown out of here," he muttered to himself. He could feel his right leg beginning to burn, but still he chose not to look down. He could not afford the distraction.

Picard saw on the aft view screen that one of the Andorians he had disabled had gotten to his feet and was manning a console. The man was overriding the controls, trying to make sure he couldn't lower the shuttle bay doors. Quickly becoming desperate, Picard told himself to remain calm and searched for an instrument or touch pad he hoped would show him the way. He found a lever with odd markings overhead and yanked it down hoping for the best. Sure enough, in response a laser cannon slowly extended from the front of the shuttle. As he increased power to the thrusters vertically, the shuttle wavered, taking another hit from the firing Andorians, but he could not afford to put up the shuttle's shields just yet. Gripping the lever and turning it clockwise, the cannon rotated until it was aimed at the outer doors. Grimacing, he flipped a safety lock on the lever, and pressed the fire button. Blue-green pulses emitted from the cannon and burst a very convenient hole through the bay doors.

* * *

Beverly Crusher looked up from her work, as Deanna Troi walked into her office unexpectedly. The Counselor seemed determined to catch her off guard on a fairly regular basis. "My, you are persistent," she thought to herself, and could not help but smile slightly. If Troi read her thoughts, she made no indication that she minded the silent jab.

"Hello, Counselor," said Beverly. "Any sign of my son out there? He was supposed to meet me here after school, but I just got so immersed in busy work that I lost track of time."

Deanna smiled. "No, I'm sorry Beverly, but no, I didn't see him."

Beverly kept a neutral smile planted on her face, as she held her data pad loosely in one hand. She resisted the urge to tap the desk expectantly with the fingers of her other hand. Instead she said "So, what can I do for you, Deanna?"

Deanna smiled. How nice it was to hear someone besides Will use her first name. Progress, she supposed. "I wanted to apologize if I seemed too forward with you the other day. We had barely met and I was questioning your relationship with your son, and the Captain. I can see how this might have upset you," she added.

Crusher frowned. "Did I seem upset? I certainly didn't mean to. It's been so busy, really that I haven't had time to think about any of those…things you mentioned."

Troi nodded. "The truth is, most people on Betazed happen to be very assertive. It is an aspect of my personality that helps me to help others confront fears they are not willing to encounter on their own. But I am half human as well," she added.

Crusher raised quizzical eyebrows. "And what does your human side help you with, if I might ask?"

Troi sighed. "Well, it helps me to understand why some humans might not be so receptive initially to my attempts to counsel them."

"Humans like me, you mean?"

"Humans like you," Troi said with a smile. She opened her mouth to say something else, when the office was suddenly bathed in yellow, and alarms began to blare.


	4. Chapter 4

Lt. Tasha Yar wiped the sweat from her brow as she backed out of Jeffries Tube # 75, and planted both feet on the deck. She turned to look at her colleague, who was inputting information into his tricorder. "That's it," said Yar. "Last one. Let's mark it," she said, slamming the hatch shut.

Data glanced up from reading his tricorder. He fiddled with the settings and then held the tricorder over the handle of the hatch. Data waved it slowly up and down coating the handle as the instrument emitted an invisible, odorless marking agent that would allow them to track anyone who used the Jeffries tube. The marker would leave an invisible imprint, penetrating even gloved hands, and allow Yar to track the individual anywhere on the ship. Since the crew had been notified that the tubes were off limits for the next few days, except in cases of emergency, the only people entering the tube would be people not authorized to be there.

Yar gestured to one of her security officers. "Marks, over here," she shouted. The young man jogged over and handed Yar a pad, which she began to study it earnestly.

Data closed up the tricorder with a snap. "Lt., we have finished our investigation of the Jeffries Tubes, and we have found no evidence of Ra'Val. In addition, you have accounted for all civilian crew, Starfleet personnel, as well as the Vulcan children, and no other humanoid persons have been detected. The ship's sensors have confirmed these findings," observed Data.

"That's right," said Yar, not looking up from her report.

"The chances of an adult Vulcan male being able to avoid detection on board the Enterprise are—"

"Very slim?" said Yar. "I agree. But the Captain demanded that we carry out a search, and that's what I've done. I'm nothing if not thorough, Data," she added with a tough smile.

"You seem to suggest that despite the futility of this exercise, you will carry it through," observed Data.

Yar's smile faded. "Was there ever any question? I'm under orders," said Yar. She ran a hand through her hair in growing irritation.

"I am curious," said Data. "If Captain Picard gave you an order you considered…unwise, would you still carry it out?"

The young woman's eyes narrowed. "Without question! Wouldn't you?"

Data nodded. "In almost every scenario, yes. However, of course if the Captain gave an order which conflicted with the Prime Directive, or put the crew unreasonably at-risk-"

"That would never happen," snapped Yar, crossing her arms over her chest.

Data flinched. "How can you be certain? Although the probability may be low based on a review of Captain Picard's professional history…"

"Data, that would _never_ happen," repeated Tasha. "Captain Picard is a great man," she added, chin out, as if everyone knew this to be fact.

Had Data been human, he might have picked up on Yar's slightly threatening expression. But Data was not human, and he had nothing to offer in response but a puzzled frown.

* * *

Commander Zatha stood still, hands clasped behind her back on the bridge of her ship. She watched as a tiny greenish dart appeared on the view screen. As it shot clear of the cruiser its familiar twin engines fired and it sped away in the direction of the Enterprise. Picard, it appeared, had stolen her personal shuttlecraft.

"Commander, the human is escaping," shouted Lt. Hakka, whirling around in his seat.

Commander Zatha glanced from the view screen to her subordinate disdainfully. Her antennae twitched. "That is quite obvious. We have our orders, Lt. Hakka. Set course for Vulcan."

"You were also given an order to hold the human in custody," said Hakka, eyes fixed on his station this time.

Commander Zatha pointed an elegant finger in Lt. Hakka's direction. "Relieve this officer of his post. Take him to the brig," she snapped. Guards moved in quickly, and grabbed Hakka by his upper arms, roughly pulling him from his seat.

The look on Hakka's face showed only resignation at his fate. Insubordination was not tolerated in the Andorian military, and he was not surprised by Zatha's reaction to his words. But he did not regret uttering them, for there was something very strange about Zatha's behavior. He knew he was not the only officer who questioned how one of the fiercest Andorian warriors could have been overcome by a human on her own ship—while armed.

"If anyone else wishes to question my authority you may join him!" Zatha turned to glare at her officers. "Warp seven."

"Aye sir, warp seven," said the woman now manning the helm.

* * *

Captain Jean-Luc Picard was considered in Starfleet circles to be a good pilot. His experience however was limited to Starfleet vessels and the occasional Klingon scout ship. However he was not well versed in Andorian glyphs, numbers or codes and after the initial euphoria of getting the shuttle into flight and making his escape, he was now hard pressed to get the tiny ship to slow down. He found its maneuverability to be very impressive however and he did his best to aim the shuttle in the general direction of the Enterprise.

The other problem was that his vision was becoming cloudy. In fact the interior of the shuttle cockpit seemed to shimmer in a red haze. Although he had been wounded by the Andorian guard's blade, he knew it was not a lethal wound and one glance down at his leg told him that the long thin cut had begun to coagulate and the bleeding had stopped.

There was no reason for him to feel this drowsy unless...instinctively he looked down at his hands and saw they were streaked with blue...his tongue felt thick in his mouth and he could feel his throat constricting. He'd been poisoned, he now had no doubt. The Andorian blade….His vision began to narrow until it seemed that he was staring into a tunnel that was closing and shrinking by the second. He clumsily tapped at the scanner but his bleary eyes could no longer identify the Andorian cruiser on the screen. Had Zatha's ship left the system or was it pursuing him? At any rate, he might as well continue the forward motion.

Switching to the forward view a massive grey disc-like shape loomed ahead of him. For a brief moment he actually forgot that it was his ship. He blinked and tried to keep his clumsy hands steady on the flight controls. His new ship, just a week into its maiden voyage, and not only was he not in his beautiful ship, but he was likely to die pathetically in out here in space before reaching it. This was his last thought before he slumped forward onto the flight controls. Even then he was dimly aware of the shuttle lurching forward.


	5. Chapter 5

Demons, Part 3, Chapter five

"Commander!" shouted Lt. Worf from tactical, "An Andorian shuttle is incoming."

"On screen," said Riker, pushing himself up from the Captain's chair and walking forward. A tiny sliver of a ship was indeed speeding toward the Enterprise. Riker felt his heart begin to pound harder, as adrenaline coursed through him.

"It is approaching at a high velocity, commander," Worf warned, leaning over the railing at tactical as though he was getting ready to jump through the view screen.

Riker didn't bother to shoot Worf the "no kidding" look he really wanted to. The fact was the shuttle was barreling in so fast there was little time to even think. But Riker was a quick thinker. He was in this position for a reason. And while Worf would always assume hostile intent on the part of an incoming ship (perhaps a trait that would serve him well as a security chief someday) Riker had to think ahead of the current situation. He had to anticipate every negative and positive scenario within seconds.

Riker focused his attention on Commander Data, who had just glided onto the bridge and slid into his the ops station. "Data, life form readings?"

"Sensors show a humanoid life form sir." He paused as his hands flew over the console. "The shuttle's shields are activated and interfering with our sensors, Commander. It is impossible to tell if the pilot is Andorian or human, sir", the android added as though reading Riker's mind.

Riker glanced at the view screen again. The Andorian battleship was preparing to exit the system, and its crew didn't seem the least bit concerned about the missing shuttle. Was it an expendable Andorian sent to distract them or worse yet a suicidal maniac determined to take the lives of the Enterprise crew? There was another possibility of course. If it was Picard he was behaving like a man pursued, that was for sure. And if it was Picard, they wouldn't be able to beam him out with his shields up. He squinted as suddenly there was a flash of blinding light, and the Andorian battle cruiser was gone.

"The Andorian ship has entered warp, sir," Data said calmly. "The Andorian shuttle is at one thousand meters and closing."

"He's determined, whoever he is," said LaForge, keeping his voice calmer than he felt.

"Hail him!"  
"Commander, he's not responding to our hails," said Worf.

Riker's mouth was set in a grim line as he stared at the view screen. "Bring the ship around and open the aft shuttle bay doors," he shouted abruptly.

LaForge complied quickly. "Shuttle bay doors open, sir."

"He's coming in too fast and we're going to have a big problem inside shuttle bay one, sir!" warned LaForge.

"Activate the emergency damping system in the shuttle bay," Riker ordered.

"Activated," reported Data. An energy web deployed in the shuttle bay was designed to slow the excessive speed and kinetic energy of incoming vessels.

* * *

"Intruder alert, intruder alert" the ship's computer sounded through Shuttle Bay One. If Lt. Miles O'Brien could have shut the bloody thing off, he would have. He stood at the guidance station and stared out into the blackness of space trying to keep his nerves from jumping out of his skin as an alien ship headed toward the opening shuttle bay doors at an alarming clip. He continued to remind himself of the clear force field separating his fragile body from the harshness of outer space. Miles O'Brien had the unfortunate position of having been on duty when it was announced that a ship identified only as "Andorian" was headed toward the Enterprise on a collision course. Judging by the zig-zagging pattern of the craft, the pilot was either clueless or crazy, but either way Miles had reason for concern.

Seconds ago Lt. Commander Data had deployed the damping field, which was meant to rapidly decelerate incoming vessels. The problem was, the field wasn't deploying as it should. It seemed that whoever had finished troubleshooting the ship's systems prior to its hasty departure from space dock had decided not to prioritize this one. Perhaps the systems technicians had thought it unlikely that the Enterprise would be pursued by a madman in a tiny alien shuttle craft within a week of beginning its journey. Well they'd been completely wrong hadn't they?

O'Brien was sweating, cursing and desperately trying to override the system failure when he saw the kid enter the bay. "What the hell do you think you're doing kid? Get out of here!" He shouted angrily. The kid was very slight, mid-teens, and not listening to a word O'Brien was saying. Infuriatingly the kid waved once as though greeting one of his classmates, and then turned his back to Miles. To Miles' dismay the kid pulled off a maintenance wall panel cover and began reorganizing silicon chips methodically. Unable to leave his station, O'Brien shook his head and turned back to what he was doing, and hoped that the boy wouldn't make the situation worse.

* * *

Beverly Crusher stepped in to her quarters, with Deanna trailing behind her. "Wesley!?" No answer. She moved in to Wesley's room. His clothes lay rumpled on the floor, and an oddly constructed device lay on a nearby table, but Wesley was nowhere to be found. When she exited the room, she nearly bumped into Deanna. The counselor had insisted on accompanying her to her quarters, once she realized her son wasn't in Sickbay, their usually agreed upon after school meeting place. "Sorry," she muttered and navigated around her concerned colleague. After glancing into the bathroom, which was of course empty, Deanna watched with curiosity as Beverly paced around the living room. "Dammit!" she shouted suddenly to no one in particular. "We just started this mission. Why does my son seem to disappear every time we have a crisis on the ship? Am I supposed to just expect this from now on?"

Deanna Troi clasped her hands together in front of her and looked on with sympathy. "To be fair, Beverly, it hasn't exactly been smooth sailing so far, now has it? We're all still just finding our way on this ship, and finding our place in this crew."

Crusher fixed Troi with a withering glare. "Counselor, I have no interest in getting in touch with my feelings right now. I _need_ to find my son," she said, pushing past Deanna and out of her quarters.


	6. Chapter 6

Demons, Part 3, Chapter 6

How had he ended up in the shuttle bay? Well here is how it happened. Wesley Crusher was impulsive. His mind was ever active, and most of the time it was focused on working out scientific equations. Yet he was flighty. At any given moment, his brilliance could become a hindrance; which was what happened when he was released from school that afternoon. When he left school, the yellow alert was already sounding throughout the ship, and instead of immediately heading to visit with his mother in sick bay he hurried to a computer wall panel.

"Computer, why has the ship gone to yellow alert?" he asked.

"The ship has detected a potential threat," said the computer, vaguely.

"What is the nature of the threat?" he said, trying to sound more commanding, in the hopes that the computer might take his question more seriously the second time.

"The information you are seeking is available to authorized personnel only."

Wesley sighed loudly.

"I am sorry, I did not understand your inquiry," said the computer.

Wesley thought for a moment. "Computer, have any sections of the ship been restricted due to the yellow alert?"

"Yes," said the computer. "Shuttle Bay One is currently available only to—"

"Authorized personnel," finished Wesley. "I know." He smiled, having obtained at least enough information to posit a theory. His smile faded, as he considered the possibilities. The fact that the alert level was yellow and not red meant the ship was not under attack, at least not yet.

Captain Picard was currently off ship, and tensions with the Andorians were increasing. What if the yellow alert had something to do with Captain Picard's negotiations with Commander Zatha? "Computer, are there any ships besides the Enterprise currently orbiting the Andorian moon?"

"Yes," said the computer. "An Andorian _Blade_ Class shuttle."

Alarm bells began to sound off in Wesley's head and a chill went up his spine. "And is Captain Picard currently aboard the Enterprise?"

"Captain Picard is not aboard the Enterprise," said the computer.

Not only was the Andorian battle cruiser no longer in the sector, but the only other ship nearby was a shuttle, presumably launched from that cruiser, and Captain Picard was still not on board the Enterprise. Wesley turned in the direction of the shuttle bay before he even finished his thought. He knew the odds were that Captain Picard was in that shuttle, and that Commander Riker was trying to bring him in to Shuttle Bay One. But something must have gone wrong. He had to help. He had to show the Captain that he could be useful, that he could be a valuable part of the crew. He tried not to think of what his mother would say. He paused, and turned back, typing something quickly into the computer panel before running down the corridor.

* * *

Beverly Crusher stormed onto the bridge, with Deanna Troi trailing behind. "Where is Captain Picard, I need to speak with him," demanded Crusher, stopping abruptly next to Commander Riker.

Riker turned in annoyed surprise and looked from Deanna back to Crusher. Troi's normal post was here on the bridge, but Crusher should have been in sick bay, particularly given the high level of alert. Instinctively he rubbed his chin in an attempt to appear calmer than he was. "Captain Picard isn't here," he said in a measured tone, turning his attention back to the view screen. "And your place right now, Doctor, is in sick bay." Crusher did not move a muscle.

Deanna sat down slowly in her usual seat and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap carefully as she looked on with some trepidation.

"I just found out my son is in Shuttle Bay One and it's been sealed off. No one is allowed in or out," Crusher was speaking so quickly she barely paused for a breath. "Now if I could just speak to Captain Picard—"

"Status!" snapped Riker.

"The damping field is still at only forty percent, Commander," replied Data calmly.

"Still coming in too damn fast," LaForge muttered under his breath.

"Sir, if he enters the bay at that speed the tractor beam emitter in the bay won't be able to hold him. It is not strong enough," said Worf.

"Lt. Worf is correct. Not only is the shuttle bay tractor beam emitter not strong enough to control the craft, but the damping field's ability to slow the craft will be negligible."

"I hate to ask, but does that mean…" Troi trailed off.

"At its current velocity the shuttle will be destroyed and the explosion could cause significant damage to the Enterprise, Counselor," Data clarified.

"How many personnel are in the shuttle bay right now?"

"Lt. O'Brien and…one other humanoid. Only one combadge registers, sir," said Data.

"That's my _son_, Commander," snapped Crusher. "I know it's him. He sent me a message." In fact, she had been so upset when she went to her quarters that she hadn't seen a blinking message light on her personal computer screen. It wasn't until she had returned to sick bay to find the message waiting for her. It had said simply: "Mom, went to shuttle bay 1 to help with emergency. Please don't worry. Love, Wesley."

Riker shouting at the crew brought her back to the present. "I don't care who is in there, just get them out of there. Now."

"The malfunctioning damping field is causing interference," said LaForge. "It's not safe to transport anyone out of there, sir."

"Can you communicate with O'Brien's combadge?"

"No sir," said Data. "The interference Lt. LaForge referred to is disrupting our communications."

"Send O'Brien a message and tell him to evacuate and take Wesley with him."

"Aye sir."

"Commander," said Data. "If the shuttle pilot does not correct his trajectory, the shuttle will collide with the ship's hull."  
At this point Riker doubted the pilot was aware of what he was doing, judging by the way the shuttle was approaching.  
"I can adjust the pitch of the Enterprise to compensate," reported LaForge.  
"Do it," snapped Riker.

"The shuttle is beginning to spin, Commander," said Worf. "It will not be a clean entry."

"If the shuttle hits the Enterprise hull at its current velocity, it will be destroyed, commander."

"Not necessarily; his shields are still up." Suddenly Riker had an idea. There was a small area between the shield barrier and the hull. "If he bounces off our hull we can use the shields to slow his speed down enough that we can engage the tractor beam emitter and bring the shuttle in. Raise shields."

"Commander, our shields are inoperative!" Worf looked as though he was about to cave in the tactical station with his fists.

"Worf is right, sir, we've got an energy drain from the main shield generator," said LaForge.

"Draining to where?"

"Graviton energy from the shield generator is being diverted to Shuttle Bay One," responded Data.

"It's too late," said Troi, eyes wide and staring at the view screen. She said what everyone else was thinking. They all watched helplessly as there was a white flash and the shuttle seemed to vanish.

Riker suddenly realized he had been holding his breath. He doubted that he was the only one. "Report," he said. His voice sounded mechanical to his own ears.

In contrast, and somewhat ironically, Data's response sounded authentically surprised. "The hull and inner shuttle bay are intact, sir. The Andorian shuttle is now inside the bay, but it is enveloped in an energy field. Shield power is still minimal. Sensors are now showing three life forms inside the shuttle bay. One is very faint."

"Captain Picard," Riker murmured. Beverly Crusher's head snapped up to look at Riker. A slow look of unease passed over her face. She had been so intent on making sure her son had been safe, she hadn't given another thought to the identity of the shuttle pilot.

"LaForge you have the conn. Data, Worf, Doctor, you're with me," said Riker, running to the turbo lift.

* * *

O'Brien was in awe. The boy had done it. He had somehow boosted the energy to the damping field slowing the velocity of the shuttle to a more manageable speed. Simultaneously he had boosted power to the shuttle bay's smaller tractor beam emitter, creating a very powerful tractor beam inside a very closed space. The Andorian shuttle now hung inertly about two meters over the floor of the landing area.

"Lowering it down now," said O'Brien, standing at the controls. Slowly the shuttle, which was enveloped in a kind of blue energy hammock, lowered to the deck with a clanging noise. O'Brien pulled his phaser and walked swiftly toward the shuttle. He had no intention of being ambushed by an Andorian after all they had just been through. He glanced behind him, feeling an anxious set of eyes. It was the teenage wonder. "Listen kid, I have no idea who you are, but I'm impressed. Whoever is in there owes you his life," he said nodding toward the shuttle.

* * *

"Mom, I think he's waking up!"

The prickly warmth started in his toes and slowly worked his way up his calves, thighs, and groin. By the time he felt it reach his chest he gasped involuntarily. The air was cool in his lungs, almost painful; still it was welcome. For some reason his eyes would not open. He coughed.

"Okay Wes, move back a bit please," a clear voice said. Then, "He's awake." And then there were footsteps and soft laughter from several voices nearby. Were they laughing at him? Why couldn't he see?

He blinked but still could not see. The peculiar warmth, which had paused at his collarbone, had now entered his throat. He took another breath and it was easier this time. The warm sensation spread through his face, and when it hit his ears he felt a pop and the voices were suddenly louder and clearer. He blinked, but a grey veil still seemed to hang over his eyes.

"Some kind of bladed weapon pierced your lateral femoral cutaneous nerve, Captain," said the same clear voice that had spoken before. "The blade must have been coated with some kind of poison."

"The knife," he whispered. "The Andorian soldier…."

"Sir, you should rest," came a deeper voice etched with concern. "The details can wait until you're well."

"Andorians have been known to use poisonous agents on their ritual blades," growled an even deeper voice. "Poison is a coward's best friend," he heard the growl again.

"I introduced a powerful neural stimulant into your bloodstream, Captain. We were able to reverse the paralysis completely. But I need to keep you here overnight to make certain your recovery will be as smooth as possible."

He blinked again, and the world began to become less cloudy. He could see color now. Shapes were clearer. He remembered now. He was on the Enterprise, and this was his crew. A sudden realization overcame him. He tried to sit up, but it felt as though a weight was still pressing down on him. He forced himself up and rested on his elbows. The air was now cool on his chest. "We need to proceed to Vulcan," he gasped, coughing again. "The Andorians are planning an attack."

A shock of auburn hair and ivory skin moved near his side and leaned over him. A cool hand pressed against his shoulder and reluctantly he lay down. He could feel his forehead crease in frustration. His body had not yet caught up to his mind, and he still had some difficulty moving quickly.

"We know, Captain." It was Riker. "Admiral Imhoff contacted us about thirty minutes ago. We've been ordered to Vulcan at Warp ten to head off the Andorian fleet. And good news, sir; we will be joined by the _USS Horatio_. Captain Keel has already promised to host a poker game of course, after we, as he said 'clear up this little Andorian misunderstanding', sir."

Picard made a face and grunted. The tall man's face was coming into view now. "You are a poker player, then, Riker?" he murmured.

"Oh yes, sir." There was no mistaking the beaming grin now.

"Alright," said Dr. Crusher, addressing the others. "The Captain needs to rest, and so now if you would all afford him the opportunity…" Riker smiled and nodded to Worf and they left for the bridge. Crusher turned to find her son still standing there. He was waiting, no doubt for some kind of acknowledgment from Captain Picard. Unfortunately, Captain Picard still had trouble seeing and his memory of the shuttle incident no doubt ended prior to entering the shuttle bay. He wouldn't remember Wesley's role in bringing the ship in safely. No matter; when he was feeling better, he would want to know what happened, and she hoped he would talk to her son then.

"Wesley," she said with an affectionate smile. "Why don't you go and get some rest yourself," she suggested, but it was more of an order. She opened her arms to him, and somewhat reluctantly he walked into them. She tried not to think about how close she had come to losing him this afternoon. And Jean-Luc. But, they were both safe now, she reminded herself. There was no use dwelling on what had already happened, and certainly not on what could have happened. She kissed Wesley on the cheek and squeezed his hand before he left, now thoroughly embarrassed.

* * *

Beverly turned back to Picard, who appeared to now be dozing slightly. She smiled to herself. Wesley would be glad to know the Captain had missed seeing him hug his mother. She dimmed the lights in the room and walked over to the recovery bed. It seemed that for the first time since she had known him, he looked peaceful and relaxed. Granted he was in a semi-chemical induced state, but rest was rest, she reasoned. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him as he slept. She sat down in a nearby chair and pulled up his chart on her data pad. Nearly all of his vital signs had normalized.

"I feel very weak." She glanced up at the sound of his voice, hoarse, but working.

She remained seated nearby. "That's normal, Captain. Your body is gaining strength by the minute though. All things considered, you are headed for a full recovery."

There was a pause. "I'm not wearing any damn clothes," said Picard, looking under the sheet for the first time.

Crusher strained not to laugh. "No, sir, you're not wearing any clothes. Would you like some?"

"Of course I would," he said sourly. "I can't very well command a ship in this pathetic state."

Crusher sighed. There were so many things she could have said right then, but thought better of it. "Captain, you are supposed to be resting right now. You'll have plenty of time to command later on. Besides, resting doesn't require any clothes at all."

Picard shifted on the bed. He detested hospitals, but had to admit he didn't mind the company. He cleared his throat and said "up". The bed tilted up until he was in a more comfortable sitting position. He rubbed his eyes, now mostly clear, but burning slightly.

"How much do you remember, Jean-Luc? Do you remember how you were wounded?"

"My mind is still a bit hazy, I am afraid," he said with some irritation. "Something went wrong…" he said vaguely. "I was trying to escape the Andorian ship…when I reached the hangar, I fought two guards. One of them had a really nasty looking knife. I knocked him down and I suppose it grazed me, on his way down." He looked under the sheet again, with some alarm. He had avoided looking at the wound before, frankly because it had been so close to his groin area, that at the time he just didn't want to know. Besides there really hadn't been enough time to worry. His priority had been escape.

Crusher put her data pad down next to her on a small table. "The wound was reasonably superficial, but it did nick the femoral nerve, as I mentioned before. Had it been deeper, you might not have survived. And don't worry, Captain, everything is intact," she added noticing his queasy look.

He looked away. "Of course," he murmured, and then fell silent

Crusher smiled awkwardly, suddenly sharing his discomfiture. She slapped her hands on her knees and stood up quickly. "Well, Jean-Luc, I think it would be best if I leave you to rest. I'll be in my office, so please just call if you need me."

His eyes followed her as she left his side and then disappeared. Just for a moment he found himself back years ago, and he felt the delicious aching of wanting something, someone he couldn't have. As he began to doze off again, the thought crossed his mind that after all he had just been through, it might be time to finally live in the present.

* * *

**Hello, Glad you are still following this story. Thanks very much for all of the reads and reviews. -PP**


	7. Chapter 7

**Vulcan -The Past**

"Brother, we have been walking for some time. What did you want to show me?"

"Just a little further," said Ra'Val. Her brother walked ahead of her, seemingly tireless, up the mountain. Normally he tired more quickly than she, as he was frailer than she was. They shared many differences, despite the fact that they were twins, an unusual occurrence for Vulcans. Their twin status made them minor celebrities in their desert hometown, which meant their neighbors watched them with guarded curiosity, if not actual suspicion.

They were twelve, an important age for Vulcans, as logic training was now intensified and emphasized over everything else. Children were expected to take on responsibilities that would lead them into adulthood in a few years. Emotional outbursts or other dramatic episodes were no longer expected or tolerated. T'Pel was somewhat typical in this way, but her brother was different, a fact that she knew concerned her parents.

"We are here," said Ra'Val. He turned around at that moment, as he reached the peak of the small mountain. The summit was flat, and on the other side, a sheer cliff. The sun was beginning to set, and with its departure the desert chill was quickly moving in. The fading light, along with the wind whipping through Ra'Val's shoulder length hair—hair he refused to cut, made for an arresting view. Ra'Val closed his eyes and held his arms out. Was he meditating? T'Pel wondered. Then he began to do something strange, something that had been buried shortly after their first few years of life. He laughed and didn't stop laughing.

T'Pel watched him carefully. "Ra'Val, your actions are most illogical," she said, which she knew was the appropriate response to this kind of behavior.

"I do not care, it feels good!" He continued to laugh, but it sounded harsh now, and forced. Suddenly he ran to the edge of the cliff and spun around, arms wide.

"Feelings are illogical," said T'Pel, calmly. She walked forward to within reach of her brother, should he slip.

"My sister, do you not understand? Up here we can be free of the others. We can laugh and even cry if we need to."

"I do not understand, and I do not need to laugh or cry," she replied. "Ra'Val, you are at risk of falling if you do not bring your emotions under control. Our parents will be concerned if we do not return home soon."

"But they will not be concerned enough to be angry will they? They are never angry. But I can be angry! Do you want to see?" His brown creased and his eyes began to turn even darker than their normal dark brown. At that moment, Ra'Val did slip, and T'Pel leapt forward to grasp his arm. Somehow she grabbed his hand, but they both went over the edge and began to fall rapidly.

"No!" screamed Ra'Val, and suddenly they stopped their descent. They hung there, hands still joined, in mid-air. She looked at her brother's face, and saw a strangeness she had never seen before. His eyes were filled with blackness. Slowly, under this unknown power, his power, they safely floated back down to the bottom of the mountain. When they reached the foot of the cliff, she stared into his face and watched as the blackness in his eyes disappeared gradually. Suddenly, he smiled at her and hugged her close. "I love you," he whispered. She returned his embrace, and somehow knew it would be the last time.

* * *

**Enterprise-2364**

"What you did was completely irresponsible and dangerous! You risked your own life and the lives of this crew, and I want to know why," Riker demanded.

Wesley stood in Picard's ready room, head bowed, which made it difficult to keep his shoulders from slouching. He knew he should be standing at attention, but he was terrified. He scuffed his foot on the carpeting and wished he were someplace else.

"Mr. Crusher, look at me, and answer my question," snapped Riker. It was killing him to yell at a teenager, but it had to be said, and the Captain wasn't around to do it himself.

Wesley's chin snapped up and he attempted to stand up straighter, although he couldn't quite bring himself to look directly at the first officer. "I—I saw a problem sir, and I guess I just knew how to solve it."

Just knew? Riker doubted more than a few other people on board the ship were capable of doing what this boy had figured out in just minutes. Riker folded his arms over his chest. "Is that the only reason?"

Wesley looked down again. "I…knew Captain Picard was in trouble, and I wanted to help him. I wanted to show him…I don't know…" he trailed off self-consciously.

Riker rubbed his chin and sat down on the edge of the desk. So, young Mr. Crusher had been attempting to impress the Captain. He felt for the boy. It made him recall the fact that Wesley didn't have a father, and that his father had died under Picard's command—a fact he had learned while embarrassing himself on the shuttlecraft just days earlier. There were a number of complicated issues there that had now no doubt come to the surface by Wesley seeing Picard again. Riker had his own complicated relationship with his father, and he could relate to what seemed to be Wesley's longing for a father figure. It made it very difficult to be upset with the young man.

Riker sighed. "Wes… it's hard for me to admit this, but I've never been prouder of anyone I've served with, than I am of you." Wesley broke out in a spontaneous grin, before struggling to become serious again. Riker continued. "Your ability to re-route the energy from the shields was ingenious, you kept a cool head, and most importantly you saved Captain Picard's life and possibly the lives of crew members who might have been harmed had that shuttle come in at full speed."

He stood up and put a hand on Wesley's shoulder. "But Wes, as capable as you may be you're a civilian…you're not a member of Starfleet. You can't make a decision again like that without consulting with me or Captain Picard first. Is that understood?"

Wesley nodded. "Yes, sir. It won't happen again, I promise."

Riker smiled and let go of his shoulder. "Good. Now, Captain Picard has asked to see you. He's still in recovery, but you can go and see him after class today."

Wesley's smile faded and he turned pale. He had never been alone with Captain Picard, and after his experience with Riker, he was not keen on finding out how upset the Captain was with him. "Uh, sir?"

Riker knew what Wesley was thinking, but shook his head. "Sorry, Mr. Crusher. When you make adult decisions on this ship, you've got to answer for them like an adult. Dismissed."

* * *

**San Francisco, Earth 2345**

Picard squinted in the early morning sunlight. Breathing heavily from his run, he stooped and put his hands on his knees. The San Francisco air was chilly, and his breath released in quick little clouds of vapor. He had won the two-man race, but could take little joy in it, since Jack seemed to be in a completely different world, and oblivious to the shame of losing. The truth was, Jack had practically forced him to come on shore leave, and now that they were on Earth, Jack seemed to be in some kind of a daze. He seemed thoroughly distracted. "Jack, what's going on? Don't you care that you just lost—badly?" Jean-Luc said half-jokingly. He sat down heavily on the gravel track, and leaned backward on his hands. He dug the heels of his sneakers into the track absent-mindedly.

"Hell no, why should I? You always win," Jack laughed and flopped himself down on the grass, still wet with dew. Chest heaving from exertion he lay staring up at the sky. They were quiet for a few more minutes. Suddenly Jack clapped his palms over his eyes. "Okay, here it is. I'm sorry I didn't mention it sooner, but I met the most beautiful girl a few months ago, and I can't stop thinking about her," he said quickly.

"Jack, that's wonderful. I'm happy for you," he said getting to his feet and brushing off his shorts. Picard shrugged inwardly. He certainly wasn't upset that Jack hadn't told him sooner. Jean-Luc didn't tell Jack anything about his own personal life, unless Jack asked, or as happened more frequently, Walker forced the information out of him. He thought the conversation was over, but Jack kept it going.

Jack sat up and then rose to his feet. "Remember when Walker invited us to his engagement party, and you backed out?"

"I didn't back out…" Jean-Luc protested as they began walking. "Captain Horan assigned me to oversee the retro-fit of the Stargazer—"

"Because Commander Warren didn't want to do it himself, yes I remember," said Jack with a sly smile. "The fact is, you didn't want to go."

Picard took a drink from his water bottle. "Jack, I'm having a hard time getting exhilarated every time Walker announces another marriage engagement. You know when I first met Walker about six years ago he was already on his way to getting divorced? And to be honest with you I have no idea what number wife he was on at that time."

Jack laughed. "Jean-Luc, when are you going to get that it's not just about your career? Your personal life is just as important—certainly more important than any damn retrofit. In a few years you'll be thirty. Don't you ever think about settling down?"

Picard stared at his friend with a baffled expression. "Weren't we talking about you?"

Jack laughed again and shook his head. "Yeah. Well, Walker was really disappointed you weren't there. Aside from you missing his party, he said he had someone he had wanted you to meet, but…lucky me, I met her first. Maybe that's why I didn't mention it to you sooner…."

Jack studied his friend's face, but there was no discernible disappointment or envy in Jean-Luc's expression, so he continued. "I want to introduce you in a few days; I just want it to be the right time. She's really busy with school right now and doesn't have a lot of free time."

"She's at the Academy?"

"Yes, but she's already been accepted to Starfleet Medical School. She's going to be a doctor, Jean-Luc, and she's brilliant. I can't even describe how I feel about her. But when you meet her, you'll see what I mean."

* * *

**2364**

He awoke, and at first had no idea where he was. He had been dreaming of the past again. All those years ago, nearly twenty to be accurate, he had enjoyed the company of his best friend. Now those images and sounds, which had seemed so real faded again as he lay in a recovery room in sickbay on his new ship. He had been poisoned and temporarily paralyzed by an Andorian weapon and despite feeling better had not yet been cleared for duty. He picked up a book and began reading, when he heard a light knock at the entranceway. He looked up to see that Doctor Crusher's son was paying him a visit.

"You asked to see me, Captain?" Wesley walked hesitantly into the room. The lights were much dimmer than in the classroom from which he had just come. He blinked a few times to help his eyes adjust.

"Yes, Wesley", said Picard beckoning him in. "Please come in."  
Wesley tried to hide his anxiety as he approached the Captain's bedside. It was an oppressive sensation, despite the fact that Picard was perhaps at his least intimidating at the moment. The Captain, Wesley noticed for the first time that sitting up in bed in hospital clothes, the Captain appeared pale and gaunt, his wiry strength clearly depleted. Yet somehow the intimidation remained. He remembered Riker's words and steeled himself.

When Wesley moved to Picard's bedside he stopped short and fiddled with his school memo pad which he held in front of him. He clamped his mouth shut aware that it was hanging open slightly.  
Picard gestured for him to sit. "Please, do sit down Wesley" he said in what was possibly his most gentle voice. Finally Wesley sat down rather stiffly.

They were both silent for a few moments. Picard was the first to speak. He cleared his throat. "Wesley...Commander Riker has explained to me that you performed a rather impressive bit of engineering down in shuttle bay one."

His words came out in a flood. "I am so sorry sir; I swear I will never do anything like that again. It was a really stupid, stupid decision and I promise—"

"Wesley, please," Picard held up a hand. "Wesley you saved my life. I am indebted to you."

"Oh," said Wesley, face reddening. He sat back in his seat, attempting to calm himself. He didn't know what else to say. He hadn't expected the Captain to be so…nice.

"Wesley, I'm sure that Commander Riker has already spoken to you about the need for you to be more prudent in the future, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir," said Wesley, feeling as though there was a lump in his throat.

"Excuse me," said Picard as he picked up a glass of water on the bedside table and took a few sips. As he set the glass down again, he folded his hands in his lap, wincing slightly.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"Yes, I am fine." He cleared his throat. "You know, Wesley, the ability to engineer a tractor beam out of three different ship's systems is an unusual talent. Have you ever done anything like this before?"

Wesley hesitated, not sure if this was a trap. If he said yes, would the Captain be happy with him, or angry? He decided honesty was the only way. "Um, sort of sir; I mean not on the Enterprise. I boosted the efficiency of the master computer at Starfleet Medical."

"I see. And how long have you been able to do this kind of thing?"

"Well I've always enjoyed building things, sir. You know to solve problems, or even just for fun." He made a face, regretting his choice of words, not wanting to sound silly. It was hard for him to imagine Captain Picard having anything resembling "fun".

Picard smiled slightly. He sat forward and reached around to a small object on the table stand. He palmed it and handed it to Wesley who examined it closely. It was a Starfleet badge, and turning it over he saw it was equipped with full communication capabilities. He frowned and looked up at the Captain.

"I had Mr. Data design it for your personal use. Not an official Starfleet appointment to be sure, but as you can see, it's fully functional," said Picard. "And the next time the ship is in distress and you get a bright idea, I expect you to use it to contact Commander Riker _first_. And of course, in times of trouble, it can't hurt to let the Chief Medical Officer know where you are," he added.

Wesley swallowed. "Thank you sir," he said, voice wavering. He still held the badge tightly in his hand. Picard pushed himself out of bed and stood up. Taking the badge from Wesley, he carefully attached it to the upper left side of the boy's shirt. He gave it a slight pat to make sure it would not fall off and then stood back.

"Very good then," he said approvingly, and sat back down on the bed. Wesley was staring at him, apparently speechless. Picard resisted the urge to send the boy away at this point. He knew his inclination to do so was based on his own general discomfort around children, not anything Wesley had done, so he decided to change the subject.

"What else do you enjoy during your free time Wesley?" To his own ears the question sounded slightly strange, so he decided to try and re-phrase it, when something else suddenly came to mind. He hesitated, not sure if he should go down this road or not. But something compelled him. "You know, your father and I used to go running sometimes. I don't know if you enjoy any kind of sports, but if you are ever interested, I find I sometimes run better with a partner, and-"

Wesley was floored. "Wow that sounds awesome! Sir," he added quickly.

Picard sighed, feeling a strange sense of relief. "Good," he said simply. Not sure what else to say, he sat back against the pillows and tapped his fingers on his chest offhandedly.

"Captain, may I ask you a question?"

Picard looked slightly wary, but nodded.

"The day of Dad's funeral—do you remember how much it was raining?"

Picard looked up and into Wesley's eyes and something closely associated with guilt tightened in his chest. "Yes, I do," admitted Picard softly.

"I don't know if you saw me watching you, but I saw you walk away into the rain."

"Wesley, I don't know what to say." Picard folded his hands in his lap, feeling a familiar desire to withdraw into himself. But he realized that he could not do that with Wesley. The least he owed the boy was honesty, even if it was just to listen.

"It kept raining after you left, and to me it seemed like it didn't stop for days. You know what it's like when you're a kid," he clarified. He paused and looked at his hands. "Up until that day, I was so afraid, every time you would visit. I don't know maybe it was your voice. Mom tells me Dad used to laugh because I always used to hide when you visited. But when I saw you leave that day, I wished for the first time that you would come back. Maybe if you came back, then so would Dad."

Picard shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

"When Mom came back in the house, everyone had gone, and it was just us two. Her face was soaking wet and I asked her if she was crying. She said…she said "Wes, it's only the rain."

* * *

**Thanks for reading and all of your thoughtful reviews! Best, PP**


End file.
